Death's Perspective
by Shikaido Yuki
Summary: Tru saves strangers' lives. But we only see her from her perspective. Get to the victims closer and find out what THEY are thinking. For once, the spotlight isn't on Tru Davies, it's on Karen Landluph. Pls R&R!
1. Karen Landluph

**Author's Note:**

Tru Calling is one of my favorite shows for all time. I like it a lot; I like the story, the actresses and actors, and I like the plot. Now, Eliza Dushku has become my favorite actress. Hehe. I cried when I watched the episode when Luc died! That was a complete bummer. Huweee...

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Tru Calling's character(s); however, unknown character(s) to the story belongs to me. **

All I can say now is... enjoy reading! Sorry for the long, senseless author's note.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**Death's Perspective**

_by: Shikaido Yuki_

_**CHAPTER 1**_

_**Karen Landluph**_

It was five o'clock in the morning that my alarm started beeping. I reached over and tried to shut it down with my hand but it was my fourth attempt that it finally died down.

I fought my sleepy mind for another two or three minutes. Although it was still five in the morning, and the sky was still dark, I had to wake up. I had to go to work very early this morning, and I must not be late. I struggled for a while, and finally got out of bed as lazily as a moth.

The bathroom floor was as cold as ice when I stepped in the turned on the bright lights. I even flinched. Damn, I hated waking up in the morning. It was around this time that the air was the chilliest. Trying not to feel the throbbing cold, I took my toothbrush and tooth paste, and started my morning routine.

At five thirty, did I finish eating my simple breakfast: a bowl of cereal and a cup of black coffee to keep me awake. Didn't like coffee much, actually, but had to drink it; otherwise I'd fall asleep doing my job today.

I was ready for work. No need to wear any uniform, so I wore a simple violet shirt, a blazer, and a grayish-black skirt that reached until my knee. Oh, almost forgot about my black wedge pump shoes I just bought yesterday. They were gorgeous, and they were on sale for thirty-nine bucks! I put my long, black hair in a tight bun behind my neck and put on a slight make-up. I had a clear, smooth face, and I hated heavy make-ups. There. The reason was as simple as that.

My bag was on the couch in the living room of my small, yet comfortable apartment. I reached over for it, took my keys, turned off the lights and checked the stove. Assured that my home was safe and sound, I opened the door and fled (not forgetting to lock it first).

My car was right in front of my apartment building. I opened the door-lock with my car-keys and got in. After I buckled up, I started the engine and drove towards the location of the work that needed me to wake up at this kind of time.

I was an architect, and my boyfriend, Samuel Jefferson, was a pretty rich contractor. This project started a year ago, and that time, he didn't even know me. He only saw my work and fell in love with it, so he hired me. He wanted to take down the abandoned building near the Silver Lake Park in Richmond and build a public library. Sam loved books very much.

Time went by, and we did the research together, worked together, and gave sacrifice together. I was shocked when he suddenly asked me out – on a date. I thought of it as just a meeting like usual, but instead of taking me to the Burger King or McDonald, he took me to a fancy dinner, which restaurant I was not allowed to mention.

We had a relationship, but still, didn't forget about our job. He finally got the permit, and since then, started discussing how he wanted his library to be with me. I drew up about twenty-three sketches first before he was finally satisfied.

And it was just three months ago. After solving the problem of the sketches, the next problem occurred.

Today, we were going to meet each other in his office for a meeting. The people around and in the abandoned building protested like mad over these few months. Said that it was their home. They obviously didn't want us to take down the building and evict them. We had guaranteed them a better place near the Clove Lakes park in Richmond, but they didn't want to hear. They wanted to be here. I didn't know why, nor did Sam, but the people inside were going on a hunger strike for a total of three and a half day now.

I pushed the bell at his house. His office was his house, actually, he was working independently.

Two seconds later, I heard footsteps and someone quickly opened the door.

A smile grew on my lips, it was Sam.

He also seemed happy to see me again. "Come in, Karen. Sorry to ask you to come at this time. It's just that – "

I touched his shoulder gently. Oh, Sam had always been like that, so shy and so afraid of hurting others' feelings. I gazed at his grayish-green eyes and stroked his ash-blonde hair. "No problem," I said slowly.

Sam was on his late thirties, and I was still twenty-five. Quite a range of age, huh? None of us cared about it; it was not a problem at all.

He smiled ruefully and we walked towards his home-office in the basement. It was a warm, cozy office with maple wooden floor, an elegant fireplace, and a huge mahogany table – his desk. He had a computer on it, and a few office stuffs. Sam liked the technology, but he also liked British style in the mid 18's. That was why he had the fireplace. There wasn't any fire and it seemed like he wasn't going to lit it up. Instead, he turned on some lights and the room went bright almost instantly.

A feeling suddenly struck. I had been here quite a lot of times, but never, in my visit, did Sam turn on the lights. My visits had always been around the evening so he had his fireplace lit by a fire. But why in the hell did I feel kind of familiar with this all?

I could even predict that Sam was going to stutter in the next five seconds, apologizing of forgetting to get me a drink.

"O-oh dear... I t-totally forgot to get you a drink, Karen. What would you like? Have you had any breakfast yet?"

It took me a few moments before I could finally close my gapping mouth and replied in complete bafflement, "W-Whatever you have, I'll be fine."

"Okay." Then, he ascended the stairs.

I flopped myself on the couch in front of the dark fireplace, thinking about my correct prediction. Still, I couldn't believe it. It was my very first time. This had got to be a mere coincidence. Yes, a coincidence. That was the only rational explanation.

Suddenly, I became very aware of my surroundings. There was no sound at all; I was in a complete, eerie silence. And yet, I somehow knew that Sam was going to bring down two cups of hot chocolate.

I was right – again. He climbed down the stairs and handed me a cup of hot chocolate.

"My favorite drink in the morning," he smiled rather cheerfully. He put down his own cup of chocolate on his mahogany table and sat behind it. I automatically placed myself in front of his desk, trying to shove away the _déjá vu_ feeling.

"Hey," he said again, eyeing me, "Don't mean to be rude or anything... but I think you're being too formal."

"What?"

"You're wearing a complete business outfit."

"Oh. Who knows that there's going to be a client searching for me, huh? I need to be prepared all the time, Sam. Do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"Mind me wearing these kind of clothes to your office."

"No, of course not. It's part of your job and you obviously like it... there's nothing I can do."

And that was it. Sam was always like that; he never protested unless it was _very_ necessary or it was a _huge_ emergency. Strange, I felt like he asked me the same question yesterday...

I hated magic stuff, the unexplainable, strange phenomenon stuff. I never believed in such a thing like ghosts or wizards and witches. But I did believe in God. My family had always believed in such thing. They said that my mother had had a power to hear the ghosts' whispers, my father seeing them. Blah. They were bluffing, and I didn't care about it even a bit.

But now, in the most unusual time, after trying my best not remembering my memoirs with my parents and sister... why did I remember that?

The question was still swirling inside my head throughout our three hour meeting that day.

Sorry that I wasn't paying too much attention, Sam.

**XOX**

There wasn't any work to do in the afternoon, so I was having my first free time in a year. Thank God. I was exhausted.

I parked my car in a parking lot for only five bucks per three hours. The owner somehow knew my dad and he was a good friend of him. His name was Art Bererson. The offer was so tempting that I had to agree. Beside, I didn't want to go on Manhattan streets with a car, I'd rather go on foot. I liked it better that way.

Later tonight, I had to go to the abandoned building new the Silver Lake in Richmond with Sam for a meeting with the supposed-to-be chairman of the society that stroke against us. This time, better work out.

Today, I was going to the boutique to buy some new clothes. Hadn't had any decent shopping for the last year! Good thing I could survive. Yea... last year was a busy year – very busy, if you ask me.

I went to the Apple's, the place where I usually bought my clothes. They sold good clothes with low prices shoppers could only dream of. I even knew the owner because almost all my clothes were Apple's. Her name was Amy Keyes. She was fifty-six years old, a widower with three amazing sons. Her sons were so charming, smart, and handsome! If only I could have sons like them... Too bad her beloved husband died on heart-attack few years back, though. I was there, and my heart crushed when I saw Amy cried for the first time in my life.

"Where have you been, Miss Landluph? I miss you so much, you're my best customer ever," said a familiar voice all of a sudden with such a cheerful tone.

I turned around and saw Amy coming out from the storage room with Richard, her eldest son. "Good morning, Amy, Richard," I greeted them politely.

"Still, Dear, where have you been? Haven't seen you a lot this year. I even thought you moved out!" Amy said with a smile as she sat on the counter. Her style was gypsy-like as ever.

"True, Karen," said Richard sweetly, "Where have you been?"

Richard was twenty-three, quite handsome, and he was the one who was going to take over his mother's business if she went away. Richard loved fashion and he was a true professional. Too bad he was gay. Huh. Even though I was two years older, if he was straight, I'd have a go for him. But hey, I had Sam already.

"Working so hard that I only slept for four hours a day," I chuckled. "I've been in a huge project for the last twelve months and I've been kept very busy with my colleague, Samuel Jefferson – "

Richard cleared his throat. "I can see something-something there... Come on, spare us your secret. Jefferson isn't _only_ your colleague, right?"

I flushed. "Well, we've been going out for the past three months..."

"I knew it," he said in victory, "Oh, Ryan's heart's going to be crushed. He was crazy about you, that kid."

Ryan was the youngest of the three brothers. The middle son was Robert, and he was in Yale at the time.

"Really."

"We're not going to keep you from going shopping for too long, Dear," Amy said with a pleasant smile. "Richard, why don't you help Karen pick up some clothes?"

Before I could say a thing, Richard had already chirping happily about the new style and the perfect outfit for me. He took four or five pair of clothes and handed them to me and pushed me to the dressing room to try them on.

I knew it was useless to fight, so I only did what he wanted me to do. I wasn't going to buy these clothes he gave to me, maybe only the cute tank-top and the blue skirt. They were pretty. What I really needed to buy was a white, plain, long-sleeved shirt for tonight. Mine was turned pink because I accidentally dropped a red tank top along with it when I washed them. Now, I had a pink shirt instead of white.

"You look gorgeous, Karen!" Richard sang, clapping his hands merrily as he did so when he saw me went out of the dressing room. "I don't know why you didn't choose a modeling career instead of being an architect!"

I only smiled and told him that I'd take the tank top and the blue skirt, plus a white, plain, long-sleeved shirt for work.

When I went out of the store, my purse was lighter by only forty dollars. Next stop, the lingerie store nearby. I had to buy a pair of stocking – again for tonight. Where was mine? The stocking's story was quite bizarre, actually... When I put it outside to dry it up, I lost grip of it and it fell down. I thought it was okay for a pair of stocking to fall from the fifth floor, but what I didn't know was that a car went over it and well... it was completely wrecked. Argh.

It took me only ten minutes to pick up the right size and color of a pair of stockings and paid it.

I was going towards the Jenny's for lunch when someone suddenly tapped on my shoulder.

I turned around and saw a woman about my age, panting. She had a friendly smile, and she was about five centimeters shorter than I was. Her hair was long, wavy, and dyed dark-brown. It was a color I really liked, but never tried. Oh, her lip gloss was pretty, too. She was wearing a simple jacket on top of a green, V-neck shirt, and blue jeans.

"Karen Landluph?" she panted.

Wow, how did she know my name? I had never seen this girl in my whole life.

She must have seen my confused face and said again, "My name is Tru Davies. I'm looking for an architect and I heard that you're a very talented one."

"Really? Who told you about me?"

"My friend at work. He kinda knew it from someone else too."

"I see. Well, Miss Davies, why don't we have lunch while talking business? Working with an empty stomach isn't healthy."

"My – "

"Please don't. Let's pay it by ourselves, okay?"

She only nodded, and her face seemed happier than ever.

"So, how old are you, Karen?" she said as she dipped her fork into her tuna salad.

I sipped my mineral water and replied casually, "I'm twenty-five. Now, what about the job?"

"Yea, the house... Hmm... you're so young and my boss wanted me to find out a bit about you first, like your background, your attitude towards stuff... he wants proof that you're capable enough of handling his house."

"He's smart, I got to say. What do you want to know about me, Miss Davies?" Although she kept on calling me Karen, I still kept my formality. This was, after all, a business talk. I had to make a good impression.

"Do you have any boyfriend?"

"Yes. We're working together to build a new public library near the Silver Lake Park in Richmond, actually. He's the contractor."

"Samuel Jefferson, am I right?" she smiled.

I wasn't surprised if she knew. Sam was pretty famous. "Yes. Great guy, very shy, but perfect for me."

"Mm-hmm. So you have a project in your hands right now?"

"Yes. The new public library."

"I heard that the people living in the abandoned building were doing hunger strike?"

"We're going to offer them a better place to stay tonight."

"What about your parents?"

It was a hard question. Yes, it was a hard question... I had a hard time answering it. I toyed with my soup before I finally sighed and answered, "I come from a dark background, Miss Davies... my father is a mess, drunk all the time and all that... mom's even working as a stripper... and I don't know where my younger sister is."

"At least they're alive – "

"I don't know whether they're alive or not, and I don't really care. But if only I could find Kathleen..." my voice trailed off. "Are there any other questions?" I said with a smile.

"Do you have any enemies, Karen? Enemies you know or you don't know... potential ones that even want to kill you..."

"Kill me!" I gasped. "Why say such a horrible thing?"

"I've met tons of architect with an arch enemy who wants to finish them up for good."

"No. I've been friendly with everyone... and I was considered as a nerd and a loser in high school... so I guess not."

"I see. What are you planning to do today, then?"

I began to feel that this woman was asking too much. But for a job... well, she didn't look like a killer. And I could do Aikido... "There's a meeting with the chairman of the people who were doing hunger strike at eight p.m. tonight. We're going to discuss about their homes and places to stay after the building is taken down. Until then, I'm free."

Her expression suddenly became very serious. "I strongly advise you to stay home and don't go anywhere tonight, Karen. Where do you park your car?"

"How do you know I have a car?" I asked her politely, but if she wasn't blind, she'd see that my eyes were blazing. "And please, Miss Davies, it isn't your right to tell me what to do even though you're my potential client. I'm an adult woman, I can take care of myself, and this project is really important to me."

"I'm really serious, if you go out tonight, you're gonna die!"

I stood up and gathered my belongings. I was kind of afraid now. How could she predict my death? The only explanation I could think of that she was actually planning to kill me... she was going to go to my apartment (damn it, I gave her my name-card!) and murder me there... I had to stay away from the apartment as long as I could. Perhaps I could stay in Sam's.

Without saying anything, without further ado, and without giving this lady Tru Davies a chance to speak again, I walked away in grace. She somehow sounded afraid and fearful... but that could be a sign of an early regret of killing someone... she could be an assassin...

"Karen! Karen!" she called, and caught up with me. Darn it! I couldn't run, I was wearing high-heels for goodness sake!

"What?" I hissed.

"Please, I beg you, stay in your house until tomorrow morning. You are in great danger."

"The only thing I'm afraid now is you carrying a knife and stab me here – or later," I said as I walked away from her.

She caught up with me – again. She grabbed my arm and said, "Karen, if you – "

"I think you're a fake," I bellowed. "I'm not taking the job offer or whatever you call it. I'm not going to listen to your bluff, and I'm going to forget our _unfortunate_ meeting today. Let go of me and stay out of my life, Miss Davies," I said coldly. She let go of her grip and I nodded, "Good day to you."

**XOX**

I glanced at my watch. Still twelve thirty. Should I have a nap or should I have fun in the town? Hmm, I couldn't decide. Deciding was usually a simple matter for me, but for now, apparently not. The slideshow of Tru Davies preventing me to go outside today seemed like appearing off and on in my head.

Who was she? What did she want? Was she a murderer, planning to kill me?

Hiring a private detective now seemed like an idea but doing that proved me being paranoid, and I was not. I should just forget about the whole lunch thing. She said that I was in a great danger. Was it true?

Because of that stupid girl now I was doubting myself. Let's see... maybe it didn't hurt to try to remember a few things...

I was an architect. No one could've hated me. I helped people build their dream houses. People begged me and thanked me. My designs also weren't that expensive to buy. Their prices were perfectly normal and reachable. I mean, it didn't cost you two million dollars to buy one of my designs. Beside, I really thought that the ones who had enemies were lawyers? Since when did an architect has an enemy? Of course, an enemy related to the job.

About my childhood. Well, I wasn't popular in high school. In fact, people called me nerd and whatever. If a murder should occur because of this motive, then _I_ should be the killer.

Hmm... what else? Ah, Sam. He didn't have any enemies, right? Wait – that was a tough question; I didn't know the answer. Perhaps I was being to ignorant to him. Perhaps I didn't want to pay any attention to his business or friends or family. Now I realized that. It had been me, me, and me. Next time I saw him, I was going to interrogate him about his family, his friends, his _thing._

So it was definitely not Sam – I think. What else?

Right at that second, an idea rose like mad. It was so sudden, and so shocking that I couldn't believe myself of not thinking about it before.

_My parents_.

They were drinking liquor, striping off clothes in front of someone else. Somebody just had to hate them. But where were they now? I didn't know at all. I ran from home since I was eighteen, right after I finished high school and managed to grab a scholarship. I had been living on my own since then.

But if my parents were the related motive... there were _tons_ of people out there willing to take vengeance. If my parents were dead, it was possible for them to make me as their target of their maniacal revenge.

Argh.

This Tru Davies girl was really making me confused.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!" I cried when I just realized that I bumped into someone. It was also the time when I realized that my bag fell, its contents scattered everywhere. I was about to bend down and pick up my keys, purse, etc., when the guy before me helped me first by gathering my stuff and put them in the bag.

"Here you go," he said casually as he handed my bag back.

"Thanks." I gazed at him with a smile. He had brown hair, somewhat tricky eyes, and pretty much hairy face. But other than that, he had quite a body.

"Jack Harper," he introduced himself, his right hand shot in the air.

"Karen Landluph," I said, shaking his hand. "Thanks again. Good day to you, Sir."

I was just about to leave when he said, "Can I have your phone number, Miss?"

I thought about if for a second, but figured out that it might be fine. He seemed harmless and innocent – not like that Tru Davies girl... Gah. I handed him my name card with a smile then fled.

No, I wasn't going to cheat on Sam; but perhaps he was a potential client. Haha, my thoughts always wandered to that direction, didn't them?

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**To Be Continued...**

The next chapter ends it all! I promise you. Thankies for reading and please review! Oh, one more thing: have a merry Christmas and a happy new year! May God bless you all! Mmwwaaaahhh!


	2. An angel was sent to save me

_**CHAPTER 2**_

_**An angel was sent to save me**_

I wondered, why in the hell was time going so slowly today? I was quite anxious of the meeting tonight. Our offer was really hard to miss and it was their golden chance for a better living. We offered them a genuine place to live and we'd give them jobs if they wanted and capable to. They should just give up the hunger strike and agree; they were obviously hurting themselves.

After my meeting with Jack Harper, I decided to go home and take a rest before the important meeting tonight. Nothing Tru Davies said could change up my mind of going to the meeting tonight. It was the same as committing suicide.

So here was the plan: At five p.m. tonight, I was going towards Sam's house with my car. And, we were going to go to our project location with it because Sam's car was repaired. There was something wrong with his brake, but I didn't know the details. It was just... good thing he didn't die.

Right now, I was not such in a mood of picking up my car. Later, perhaps. It was still one fifteen. My plan was that I was going to go home by foot because it wasn't too far (just two blocks away) and take a nap. Then, at three thirty or four maximum, I was going to go to Art Bererson to pick up my car and drove to Sam's house. I should be there early.

Trying to stifle a yawn, I took the elevator towards my apartment in the fifth floor – in my apartment building, of course.

I opened my apartment door an gawked.

Someone I really didn't expect was inside, sitting on the couch in the living room.

"W-What are you doing here? H-How in the hell... my keys..." I stuttered, fumbling off words as I put down my bags on the table right beside the door and accidentally knocked out a few things.

Jack Harper rose from his seat and approached me.

Fear was growing rapidly inside me. The feeling I hadn't suffered again since... since _when_? I couldn't remember my experience of this horrid fear of being cornered, but I was sure I had experienced it some where before, a long time ago...

"It's okay, Miss Landluph, I only want to help," he said as he flung out his arm in widespread gesture. "As you have known, my name is Jack Harper."

I didn't say a thing. I only backed away until I reached the kitchen and managed to grab a knife.

"I'm a social worker," he added.

"I don't s-see any proof," I choked out.

He took out a card from his pocket and showed it to me. I sighed in relief. So he really was a social worker. I put down my knife and swept away the cold sweat on my forehead.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harper," I apologized as I handed him a cup of tea. We were sitting at the dining table in the kitchen.

"It's okay, you were only being cautious. It's a good thing," he said with his unique accent.

"So why are you here?"

"Have someone namely Tru Davies come to you, bragging you about some things?"

Now, this was odd. "Yes. Why ask such a question?"

"Because she is dangerous. She has two personalities and one part of her you haven't seen – is a serial murderer. She has been arrested but her punishment wasn't too 'heavy' because she's mental."

"Oh?"

"She killed her own therapist few years back. Since then, I'm in charged of keeping an eye of her."

"I see."

He showed me a document he had been having. It was a document of Davies, Tru. Harper's gesture was so clear: he wanted me to read the lines.

_Strong will of murder, dark background, need to be taken care of professionally right away_

I continued,

_Worked at the City Morgue, has an obsession of collecting dead bodies_

I kind of simplified the words, but they were still shocking. There were also other words I didn't understand, but still didn't like.

"But I lost her this morning," Jack sighed.

"That's terrible! What are you going to do next?" I said as I closed the document, not interested to read further.

"I ought to find her, of course. But since I kind of saw you with her, I wanted to warn you. She's dangerous, Miss Landluph – "

"Call me Karen."

" – Karen. If you see her anywhere, please call this number," he said as he wrote down his number on a piece of paper and gave it to me. "It's my cell. Don't call the police because she has a trauma towards them and becomes more dangerous if panic."

"Of course."

"Well then. That's all I have to say," he said, standing up.

"Still, I have a question. How did you get into my apartment?"

"The classic place to hide spare-keys; under the rug." With that, he fled.

I really need to figure out another place to hide my spare-keys. The place now was no good; it was too easy to guess, even by a stranger like Jack Harper.

**XOX**

I woke up from my afternoon nap at three o'clock. Then, I went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. I put on my light make-ups, and got dressed. I wore a cream blazer and a skirt that really matched, and the white shirt I bought earlier today in Apple's. I also wore the stocking and put on my cream standard pump shoes for formal business. I didn't usually wear stockings, actually, I didn't like the sensation of wearing it...

For the bag, I chose my trusted black Kelly bag. When I was ready to go at four, I took a thin bundle of documents I had prepared yesterday night and finally, went out of the apartment and locked the door. This time, I hid the spare-key on the upper door frame. Hopefully no one could guess it, there weren't any things or furniture in the corridor so it was kind of hard to find a decent place to hide the important spare key.

When I reached the ground floor, my lips curled. Tossing my loose hair, I opened the front door and walked as fast as I could to pick up my car from Art Bererson.

"Karen!" called a distinctly familiar voice I terrified the most now.

I turned around and saw Tru Davies was chasing me. Damn it, a serial murderer was chasing me! What kind of dream I was in!

"Go away!" I exclaimed when she managed to stand in front of me and grabbed my arms. "I've heard you; you're a serial murderer, right? Get away from my life, what did I ever do to you?"

"Serial murderer?" she repeated, baffled. "Who told you that I was a serial murderer? I'm not a serial murderer, Karen, I'm just trying to save your life!"

"Yea, save my life from your other personality, right?" I retorted, avoiding her as I continued to walk in my top speed.

"Karen!" She managed to reach me again. "I'm trying to help! Look, I'm an employee at the City Morgue and – "

"You're trying to add new ones in your dead-body collection? Good bye, Miss Davies," I spat.

Art Bererson's parking lot was only a block away. I had to reach there before this mental girl manage to get her bloody hands on me!

Thankfully, she stopped following me. I turned around and saw that she was making a phone call, walking around at the same spot. Good, while she was busy, I had a chance to escape.

At four thirty o'clock sharp, I stepped my foot in Art Bererson's parking lot. It seemed like my car was the only one in the vast parking lot. That was odd; Bererson's price list was amazing, it was tremendously cheap that I couldn't figure out how he could make profit out of it.

"Hi, Mr. Bererson, I'm just going to pick up my car and flee," I greeted with a smile as I searched for my purse inside my Kelly bag and took out fifteen bucks out of it.

Bererson seemed strange, I'd say. His jaw was tightened, his hand clenched in fists until they almost turned white. Was he having a heart attack? I gazed at his old, wrinkled face; he was about the same age as my father. He had a red cap on his head – perhaps for hiding his baldness. His jacket was mud-colored and his jeans was blue; it was the typical clothes here; it wouldn't stand out at all in public. So did mine, actually.

"Mr. Bererson? Here's the money," I said again as I flung out my arm to hand him the fee. I felt a strange feeling like my stomach was turning upside down and doing multiple back-flips.

"I've waited..." he gritted. "I've waited for a long, long nine years for this..." His eyes were blazing, throwing glares of pure hatred towards me.

"Mr. Bererson, are you okay?" I asked confidently. This old man was acting so strange! Did he think I was someone else? Yes, he did look familiar but I didn't remember of anyone with the name of Art Bererson in my life.

"You!" he shouted at me, taking out a gun from his inner jacket pocket and pointed it towards me.

Oh damn, things weren't going to be pretty...

"You! Your mother took my life, you know that! I've waited for so long! I haven't had any fun since nine years ago! Because you know what! Because of you and your fucking family!"

Again, fear started to take control. My hands were shivering, my palms were sweating. "Mr. Bererson, listen to me. I do not know you at all until today. We haven't met before!"

"YES, WE HAVE! Don't you deny it! Trying to get away from death, aren't you?" He let out a maniacal, psychopathic laugh and I felt sick of it.

I immediately wanted to throw up but I had to get a hang of myself! I must not die here! I had a project to finish, a boyfriend to apologize to! And I had a sister to search for!

In such a moment, my mind was doing a fast slideshow and I remembered. That was why Bererson's face was so familiar...

Nine years ago, my neighbor, Miss Jane, was found murdered. She was really pretty, kind, and smart. At that time, she was working as a kindergarten teacher.

In that unfortunate evening, my mom and I decided to take a walk together as we were both somehow shared insomnia. It was two a.m. in the morning, the sky was pitch black and we were surrounded by an eerie silence.

We were sitting in a tree house me and my sister, Kathleen, built; not talking to each other, just accompanying each other.

Then, a few moments later, we saw a figure of a man, sneaking into Miss Jane's house. We decided not to do anything because it was very dangerous. The next thing we heard, was Miss Jane's horrible scream. It pierced through the night and woke up a few heads.

Both of us were curious so we risked a peek of the shadowy figure of a man who was getting out of the house in a hurry. I couldn't see his face at all, even when he was lit by the moonlight, because he was too far. But! My mother had a superior sight of seeing things that were so far away. She could see the murderer's face clearly like a photo. AND, she had this memory named 'photographic memory'.

In trial, Jeffrey Hammerson was found guilty, and my mother and I was called as witnesses. He obviously saw us.

Few weeks after the trial, we heard the horrible news: Hammerson escaped. The police was determined to find him, but no luck.

Then, he appeared in our doorstep, his eyes blazing. He had a gun with him and shot my mother twice on her leg. He then strangled me, trying to suffocate me before the police finally came. Apparently, Kathleen heard some weird noises downstairs and mom's scream of pain. She said that the teacher at school taught her to call 911 immediately if she found something strange just earlier that day. We were saved by a nine-year old child.

However, Hammerson ran – again. The police never managed to catch him. It had been nine years since then. Now, his name was Jeffrey Hammerson no more; it was Art Bererson.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps. It was fast and loud. Whoever was coming here, she or he must be running.

My heart sank even deeper when I saw Tru Davies appeared, all running and panting.

She slowly approached me and Bererson, completely aware of the nine millimeters gun he had in his firm grip.

Shit, this guy was determined to kill me because of what happened nine years ago! Look at his hand, for goodness sake! Look at it! He didn't flinch, nor tremble! He had made up his mind. Oh God, I _was_ going to die. I _was_ in great danger I didn't predict. Damn it. Oh God, I'm sorry for all my sins in this world. I promise You I won't forget or make up stupid excuses for not going to the church on Sundays. I'm sorry that I rarely go to church even though I'm a Catholic. I'm sorry that I haven't been such a nice person for all these years...

Gee, I thought bitterly, People always beg like this when they are about to lose their lives. But if they are happy, they totally forget about God. If I managed to live after this, I _swore_ I'd give thank everyday to Him.

"Please put down the gun, Mr. Bererson," said Tru Davies serenely. "You don't want to hurt anyone with that. You're in a big trouble if you do."

He glanced at her but his gun was still pointed at me.

"Killing Karen isn't the only key to solve your problem. You will land up in jail, Mr. Bererson for pre-meditated murder," she said firmly.

"_The classic place to hide spare-keys; under the rug."_

Key! Oh God, I did have a thing for defense. I forgot to put my apartment key in my bag because I was in a hurry. Carefully and slowly, I reached my key in my blazer pocket. Bererson was looking at Miss Davies and little did he pay any attention to me.

Their conversation and voice didn't reach me anymore. It was like hearing a broken tape I didn't understand. But my vision was working properly and as I expected (and wanted it to be), Bererson came nearer and nearer towards me.

When his gun almost touched my forehead, I flinched and shivered. But no, I had to get a hang of myself to survive. Giving up, crying, and trembling weren't going to save my life.

Bererson seemed to be talking towards Miss Davies too emotionally. He was furious, I could feel, that his gun began to tremble.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I counted.

One,

Two,

Three.

I ducked and stabbed his knee with my key. I stabbed hard, with all my power, my will to survive. He cried in pain, but his gun was still in his hand. The good thing was, it wasn't pointed towards me anymore.

He was about to raise his gun again when I immediately kicked his right hand with the new move I learned from my Aikido lesson three days ago. His gun flew quite far, it fell near Miss Davies' foot.

Unfortunately, before I knew it, he had stood up, leaning on his healthy, uninjured leg, strangling me, suffocating me. Even with a severe wound I caused on his knee, when he was suffocating me, I could feel that my feet was getting off the ground.

My vision was getting blurry, my neck hurt, and I felt like my consciousness, my life was leaving me.

And a loud voice echoed.

It was a voice of a gun-shot.

Bererson's grip loosened and I felt the fresh air finding its way again to my lungs. I backed away and fell, my knees were so weak and I was in a complete bafflement that I didn't know what just happened.

Miss Davies was beside me, helping me to sit up properly. I could even smell her sweet scent, mixed with a bit of sweat.

She was the one who fired the gun.

She was the one who had warned me of not going anywhere tonight.

She was the one who saved my life.

"You're an angel, Miss Davies... Jack Harper was wrong..."

Then I lost consciousness.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

I heard voices around me, the hard ground I was laying on. A firm hand supporting my head and the heat surrounding me. At first, I didn't want to wake up. I want to continue sleeping in the one's firm hand, but Miss Davies... I had to apologize to her. Since the time I met her today, I never had that feeling of _déjá vu_ again.

Slowly, I opened my heavy eyelids and saw Sam's tearful eyes. I only smiled ruefully towards him, as he hugged me so tight with all his might.

"You're... suffocating me..." I choked out after a few moments.

Sam let go of me instantly, murmuring "Sorry" about twenty times.

So I was still in the parking lot. I glanced at my watch; I was unconscious for only half an hour. Thirty minutes that felt like forever.

I looked around me and saw that familiar long, wavy, dark-brown hair of Miss Davies. Leaning on Sam's strong shoulders for support, I approached her. She was giving two polices testimony about what happened. She was, after all, the only person who saw what really happened aside of me.

I realized, only a moment before my consciousness left me thirty minutes ago, that Jack Harper was a liar. Miss Davies was right, word per word. I should have listened to her instead of Harper. She wasn't a serial murderer; I couldn't and refused to believe that. She was way too nice to be one. She saved me by running all the way to Bererson's parking lot. If she knew I was in a great danger, she could have ignored me and let that guy Bererson kill me. But no, she risked her own life by trying to persuade him to put down his gun. She even shot him.

"Miss Davies?" I called her with a smile as I and Sam approached her.

She turned around and smiled so sweetly. It seemed like she had finished giving her testimony.

"Thank you," I said truthfully and honestly. "You're my savior and I will always remember that. I also apologize of spitting on you and said bad things about you."

"It's okay," she smiled. "It's difficult for a person to trust a complete stranger. But I'm going to say this again, I'm not a murderer."

I chuckled, "Yea. I believe that now."

A man with thick beard and moustache I couldn't tolerate came. He looked at me with the strangest expression I could never figure. But I still could feel the warmth of it. Whoever this new, weird guy was, Miss Davies must have trusted him so much and I could see why.

"Davis? What are you doing here?" she said casually.

"Umm, Tru? I just found the girl you're searching for." He sounded nervous.

"Really? That's great!" she looked at me with bright eyes and said the four words I could never forget, "We found your sister!"

I gawked for a moment, and finally managed to stutter, "K-Kathleen? Y-You find her? W-Where i-is she?"

"Where is she, Davis?" Miss Davies turned towards the weird man.

"She's, she's right here, actually. I picked her up. Where is she?" The man namely Davis left us for a moment and came back with a girl I almost didn't recognize.

She was taller than I was; her hair was cut short, a bit spiky, but still very stylish. She didn't wear any make-up, just a light lip-gloss. She was wearing an army-style T-shirt with cargo pants and black _Converse_ sneakers. She also had a waist bag on her waist. She seemed sporty.

"Kathleen?" I carefully said.

"Are you really Karen? Karen Landluph?" she said softly. She seemed kind of harsh outside, but her voice was still soft and squeaky like the Kathleen I know.

"Yes! Oh, Cat-cat, I really miss you!" I shrilled as I hugged her.

"The only one who called me 'Cat-cat' is you, Sis. So I'd say that you're really her. Where have you been?"

Before answering Cat-cat's question and sharing out our seven years worth of talk, I glanced at Miss Davies, murmuring 'thank you's as I did so. She only smiled and fled with Davis.

I realized now that an angel was sent to save me.

An angel namely Tru Davies.

"Oh, we have so much to catch up. Have you heard? I'm doing that project of..."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**.Fin.**

I hope you like it... Make it in the shortest time I can't even imagine of doing it! Please review and tell me what you think! If you want an epilogue, tell me then I'll make one.

Oh and, there's something important, too. The Silver Lake Park and the Clove Lakes Park are in Richmond, right? I hope they still exist because the New York City map I'm having as my reference is a map from around 1970. Please understand that I've never been to New York City so that makes me not knowing some locations. Thankies.

Thanks to those who have reviewed:

demonicblackcat

oliv


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